


Collision Course

by silentdescant



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Angry Sex, Cheating, Frottage, Guilt, Love Triangles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 07:43:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11271108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: These nights are always about Alex's frustration and Mitch's need to atone.





	Collision Course

When Mitch cracks open the bedroom door, the lights are off and the room is quiet, so he’s not expecting Alex’s voice to ring clearly through the silence.

“Are you coming in or not?” Alex asks. His voice is low but not rough, not tinged with sleep at all. He’s been waiting.

Mitch pushes the door open just enough to slip through, then shuts it quietly behind him. Scott will come crashing home at some point—or so Mitch assumes—and probably wake up the whole house with his drunken, giggly stumbling, and Mitch isn’t sure how much time they have before that happens. He goes to the bed and stands near Alex’s nightstand, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. It only takes a moment for Alex’s vague, dark outline to coalesce into shadowy features, enough detail for Mitch to feel comfortable leaning forward.

He pauses with their faces only inches apart. He can taste Alex’s minty breath.

“Are you coming in or not?” Alex asks again, this time in a whisper.

In one motion, Mitch closes the distance between them, meeting Alex’s lips in a deep kiss as he climbs onto the bed, into Alex’s waiting arms. They turn as one, twisting until Mitch is on his back, sprawled with his head in the gap between Alex’s pillow and Scott’s. Alex’s thick, strong arms trap him, his body pins Mitch down, and his teeth nip at Mitch’s lips and tongue.

“You know I fuckin’ hate you?” Alex murmurs.

Mitch wants to say, _I know_ , but his breath is caught in his throat. Alex slides his hand down Mitch’s bare chest, expertly palming his cock and massaging, manipulating Mitch to hardness through his briefs. Mitch wants to say, _The feeling is mutual_ , but Alex swallows all of Mitch’s attempts to speak.

It’s not true, anyway. Not for either of them. Resentment and guilt and superficial attraction, that’s all this is.

Alex grinds down against him, and Mitch digs his fingernails into Alex’s firm biceps. He wants to claw, scratch, bite. He wants to leave marks just because he can’t. He lets Alex take charge instead, because Alex’s frustration drives these occasional encounters. Alex’s frustration and Mitch’s need to atone. This is the wrong way to let it out, but it makes them both feel better for a brief moment, and that’s enough.

“Touch me,” Alex growls against Mitch’s open mouth.

Mitch does as Alex asks, as he demands, and reaches between their bodies, mirroring Alex and grasping his hard cock through his boxers. 

It’s never more than this, never touching without a thin barrier of underwear or bathing suits between them, because Mitch can justify it this way. It’s not really sex. It’s not anything more than he’s done with Scott. It’s a bullshit excuse but it’s the best logic he can apply to this situation, as he lets Alex devour him and grinds up into Alex’s talented hand. Alex needs to use him this way; Mitch is nothing more than an outlet, and that’s all he wants to be for Alex.

It isn’t long before Mitch is choking on air and wrenching away from Alex’s mouth to gasp, his entire body tense with the sudden crashing wave of his orgasm. The release is so quick that it’s kind of a letdown, an unsatisfying end after the thrum of anxiety and regret all evening.

Alex grits his teeth, growling as he comes, shoving his body down and pinning Mitch to the bed. He lies there, on top of Mitch, and Mitch can feel his heart racing where they’re pressed tight against one another. Alex’s panting breaths rush past his ear, hot and humid and strangely comforting. Mitch hates this. But he hates how much he craves the closeness, too.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, blinking up at the ceiling.

“Fuck you,” Alex snaps. He rolls off Mitch and sits with his feet on the floor, rubbing both hands over his face. Mitch stares at the broad, smooth expanse of his back, wishing he could reach out and touch, stroke his palm across that tan skin like he’s gentling a wild animal. Soothing.

The come in Mitch’s briefs has started to get uncomfortable. He shifts his hips and sits up slowly, ready to slip off the other side of the bed and sneak back to his own room. He hisses as his bare feet touch the cold floor.

Alex murmurs, “I know. It’s not your fault.”

That makes Mitch pause. Defensive anger surges through him. Does Alex blame Scott for this mess? It’s not Scott’s fault that Mitch wants him, that Mitch flirts and touches and clings to him. This is entirely Mitch’s fault, and it’s not fair that Alex blames Scott for it. Before Mitch’s protective instincts can flare to their full strength, he scoffs and leaves the bedroom.

Out in the hall, away from Alex, he takes a moment to breathe and let go of his guilt and anger. That’s what these trysts are for, to acknowledge and dismiss these feelings, not exacerbate them.

The sound of the front door opening and closing sends Mitch’s heart leaping into his throat once again. It must be past two in the morning, if Scott stayed out until last call with his friends. His shuffling footsteps are coming steadily closer.

Mitch dashes down the hall before Scott can round the corner, slipping into his own bedroom and closing the door as carefully and silently as he can with shaking hands. He rests his forehead against the cool wood and listens for Scott to pass by, for him to reach the master suite, for the indecipherable murmur of his voice as he finds Alex still awake.

He doesn’t like hurting Alex, but he truly can’t stand the thought of hurting Scott even more than he already has. One day soon this is going to come to a head, and Mitch is sure one of their relationships will come crashing down around them. His own selfishness makes him sick, but he hopes he’ll be the one to keep Scott when the dust settles.

 

 _fin_.


End file.
